


Sleepytime Stories

by Abiggaynerd



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiggaynerd/pseuds/Abiggaynerd
Summary: Maxwell hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.





	Sleepytime Stories

Wilson refused to sleep with Maxwell around for the first few days. 

The nights were spent glaring at Maxwell over the light of the fireplace, the bags under his eyes getting bigger and bigger and sanity lower and lower. 

Maxwell knew from the countless years he had watched him that Wilson didn’t do well when he couldn’t sleep.

Wilson was currently both about to drop from exhaustion, and too jumpy to let himself do that. The man was too stubborn, really. 

“Go to sleep,” Maxwell ordered, after Wilson nearly fell into the fire. Wilson glared.

“And let you kill me and take everything I’ve worked so hard to get? No thank you, sir.”

Maxwell raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “You got me, Higgsbury, thats my plan. Now will you stop being stupid and go the fuck to sleep?”

Wilson’s eyes narrowed. 

“Honestly, why would I kill you? It’s easier to survive with two, after all, and how do I know Charlie won’t just bring you back? Really, Higgsbury, your lack of sleep is interfering with your intellect.”

Wilson didn’t answer.

“Do I have to knock you out? Is that what this is going to take?”

“If- and only if- I sleep, you have to sleep too.” Wilson said, finally. “And I want to tie you down. So you can’t get me while I’m vulnerable.” 

“Good grief, is that what it’s going to take?” Maxwell rubbed his temples, groaning. “Fine.”

Wilson clearly hadn’t expected Maxwell to agree to that, and balked for a moment. “Well, I guess...” He stood up on shaky legs. “Come on, then.”

Maxwell lay down on the straw roll, his unimpressed glare making Wilson shy away. Wilson tied him to the matt. 

“Test it.”

Maxwell attempted to lift his arms, then his legs. Neither could move. He ignored the sensation this reminded him of. 

“Will you go to sleep now?”

“I- I guess I will,” Wilson said. He rolled out his own straw roll, and glanced at Maxwell, before lying down and closing his eyes. 

Maxwell watched the fire. It had enough fuel to go for the rest of the night- they had both gotten used to estimating how much they needed. Everything was silent, except for the comforting sounds of wood popping. 

Maxwell felt itchy. 

He squirmed as much as the ropes allowed- Wilson really had tied him down well, there was no give whatsoever. The ropes were scratchy, even through his suit. 

Maxwell clenched and unclenched his hands, toes wiggling frantically, breath coming faster. He was fine, though- he was fine, there was no danger, Wilson would let him out when he woke up. 

Wilson had let him out before, after all.

Why was he so itchy??? It was unreasonable, and frankly, he was going to be sick, was it really worth giving Wilson a little nap? He struggled, but forced himself to stop because struggling made it worse, made the throne wrap around your whole body until you were unable to move a muscle and Maxwell couldn’t breathe, didn’t need to on the throne he couldn’t die a curse a curse his hands, he could move his hands his fingers moved it wasn’t enough wasn’t enough he wasn’t struggling he was still he was being good let him out let him out let him out let him OUT-

“Wilson,” Maxwell choked out, pathetically. 

Wilson hadn’t fallen asleep yet- it had barely been a few minutes. He sat up. 

“Hm?”

“Let me out,” Maxwell said. “Please.” 

Wilson looked concerned. He cut the rope easily with his razor. 

Maxwell curled into a ball, humiliating, humiliating, but he couldn’t help it. He turned to face away from Wilson, still lying down, body still unconsciously squirming, a constant search to make sure nothing was restraining him. 

“Forget it,” Maxwell said. “If you want to be exhausted, so be it. No skin off my back.”

He rubbed his wrists. Nothing there. He felt phantom restraints press into his skin even then.

“Maxwell,” Wilson said, “Are you- are you-“

Maxwell huffed. Wilson stopped. 

“I- I guess I can still sleep,” Wilson said. “Just don’t... Don’t leave the mat?”

“Fine.”

“Alright then...” Maxwell heard Wilson lie back down. “Wake me up if you need anything...?”

“I won’t,” Maxwell snapped. 

He listened to Wilson’s breathing become soft snores. He did not sleep.

—

Wilson slept properly after that, seemingly reassured Maxwell wasn’t going to harm him. Both his and Maxwell’s sanity were better for it.

“I made a tent,” Wilson announced. 

“Oh?”

“But I only had enough to make one...”

Maxwell shrugged. He didn’t sleep much.

Wilson glared. “I’m not going to sleep outside while you get the tent!”

“I don’t care. Take the tent.”

Wilson blinked, clearly expecting an argument. “Well, it’s not... It’s not right to leave an old man like you out in the cold...”

Maxwell put a hand on his chest. “Excuse me?”

Wilson nodded. “We’ll share.”

“Old man?”

“It’s a pretty big tent, really, it should fit us both.”

“May I remind you, pal, you yourself have a receding hairline and one too many wrinkles.”

“I mean, it might be a little cramped, but...” 

“Wait, what?”

“Were you not listening?”

“Not after you called me old, no.”

Wilson rolled his eyes, but Maxwell could see his smirk. “I said, we’ll share the tent. It’s the logical conclusion.”

Maxwell wasn’t particularly interested in being in a cramped space with Wilson drooling, snoring, and sweating all over the place, and himself being completely unable to sleep like always.

“Absolutely not. I’ve been fine so far. Don’t hurt your brain worrying about me.” 

“You don’t want to sleep with me? I’m not as bad as a roommate as you think.”

“I think that I don’t need sleep.”

“That’s ridiculous, scientifically every human being needs-“

“How you know I’m still human, pal?” Maxwell grinned, showing off his incisors that were rather sharper than one would expect. 

Wilson looked at the teeth with interest, and Maxwell snapped his mouth shut. 

“Listen, Higgsbury, I don’t want to sleep in the tent with you. You got your own private suite, huzzah, leave me be.”

“But-“

“I said leave it,” Maxwell snapped. “Fuck off.”

Wilson scowled.

“Well, when you come crawling out of your own ass and into the tent in the middle of the night, I might let you stay if you beg.”

“Not a chance, pal.”   
—

Wilson gave Maxwell a shit eating grin as Maxwell crawled into the tent to get out of the snow. Maxwell scowled back, and moved to close the tent’s door, but Wilson grabbed his arm. 

“Ah ah ah, what do we say?” 

Maxwell glared at Wilson over his practically blue nose. “Can I come into the tent.” 

“Hmm,” Wilson said, merry as a boy on Christmas morning, “I don’t know, can you?” 

“Wilson, I am going to get frostbite.” Wilson was unmoved. Maxwell snarled. “MAY I come into the tent.”

“What’s the magic word~?”

“PLEASE.” 

Wilson patted Maxwell on the head. “Of course, Maxwell.” He beamed at Maxwell’s glare. 

“Why did I invent winter,” Maxwell grumbled, trying to get feeling back into his fingers and nose. 

“I seem to recall someone forcing me through an endless winter one,” Wilson said, though not particularly angrily.

“At least you have your-“ Maxwell gestured towards Wilson’s beard.

“My beard?”

“It may be ugly, but at least it seems to keep you warm.”

“My beard isn’t ugly!” Wilson said. He patted his beard comfortingly. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Don’t speak to it like a person, Wilson, it isn’t charming.”

“I’m always charming.” 

Maxwell sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Where do I go.” 

Wilson lifted his blanket. 

“What?”

“Um, it’s not like we have much room, really... And it’s cold... I don’t like this any more than you!”

Maxwell groaned. 

“Don’t be a baby,” Wilson said. “We’re both men, so...” 

“Your talking is giving me a headache.” But Maxwell took the blanket and got under it. It was blessedly warm, Wilson having been there a while, and Maxwell let out a sigh of relief. 

Wilson lay back down too, and Maxwell could feel the gentle heat radiating off of him. Maxwell lay on his side, staring at Wilson’s back as Wilson burrowed back into the blankets.

Maxwell wanted to touch him. 

Maxwell blushed angrily, glaring defensively at Wilson as if he had heard. Wilson was facing away from him anyway.

But there wasn’t any harm in a little touch, was there? 

Maxwell’s hand crept towards Wilson’s back slowly, skittish. His fingers touched Wilson’s spine, and a snap of electricity made him jump back. 

“Sorry,” Maxwell said, sounding nothing like himself. Wilson wasn’t even paying attention. Maxwell rolled back over. 

His fingertips still hurt.

—

Maxwell couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. He felt absolutely wonderful. He felt weightless, warm, and comfortable. He nuzzled into the hair in front of him. 

Hair?

Maxwell opened his eyes to find himself completely wrapped around Wilson. He yelped and jumped back, sitting up and nearly knocking down the tent in his haste. 

“Hmmmwhat?” Wilson blinked blearily at Maxwell. “Good morning to you too, I guess.”

“Hm.” Maxwell plucked a piece of hair off himself, too long to be his own. It appeared Wilson didn’t realized what he had done. “Go make breakfast.”

Wilson rubbed his eyes. “Whatever, your majesty.” He crawled out of the tent and stood up. Maxwell pressed his hand to his face, and flinched back at the freezing temperature of his hand. His face was far too hot. 

He hadn’t realized that staying with Wilson would cause him to actually fall asleep. 

And sure, he felt better than he had in a millennia, but was it really worth it if he woke up holding Wilson like he was something precious? It was only through sheer luck and perhaps Wilson’s confusion of waking that Wilson hadn’t noticed.

“Come eat,” Wilson called, and Maxwell left the tent to eat.

—

In the end, Maxwell was weak, and could only resist it for so long.

He was only human (?) after all, and if he couldn’t resist the power of the Codex Umbra, he couldn’t resist this either.

He stared at Wilson for hours, drilling a hole into the back of his skull with his eyes. Despite this, Wilson seemed to fall asleep, and Maxwell began to make his move.

He carefully curled around Wilson, as gently as he could. It was... nice.

“You want to cuddle?”

Maxwell froze, then moved to run away and live on the other side of the map, but Wilson caught his arm and pulled it around him.

“‘S ok,” Wilson said. “I don’t mind.” 

Maxwell was still frozen, even as Wilson put his own hand over his. Wilson pressed back into him. 

“Relax,” Wilson mumbled. “Making me tense.” 

Maxwell forced himself to relax, feeling like he was in some kind of alternate dimension. But Wilson was warm and relaxed and his thumb was rubbing his hand in a comforting way, and Maxwell sort of felt like sobbing. 

He fell asleep in minutes.


End file.
